"So this is the place," Megatron rasped, glancing around. Dust and grit covered the once-pristine walls of the Harbinger, as though this planet was doing its best to stake a claim on the remains of the crashed vessel.

Megatron snarled, his faceplates twisted into a scowl. He did not like that at all. The Harbinger belonged to him, not to some filthy organic world. The thought put a damper on his mood - and his mood had been good until now.

The clone in front of him made a high, strangled sound in an all-too-familiar voice. He cast a beseeching glance at Megatron, his slender wings twitching with anxiety.

Megatron's optics glittered as he stared. It had been far too long since he'd seen wings like those.

"Indeed, Lord Megatron," the clone said. "The original Starscream is no doubt - lurking somewhere around here. Probably skulking around in his laboratory, while the rest of us clones do his dirty work for him."

He sneered, hissing in displeasure. Megatron snickered. Perhaps this would prove enjoyable, after all.

"Dirty work, Starscream?" He favored the clone with a sharp, fanged grin. "And what dirty work would that be, again?"

He raised his arm, the cannon atop it glowing with energy. "The dirty work of flying back to the Nemesis on a mission to destroy me?"

The clone gave Megatron an exaggerated grin. "Well - er. Yes, my lord. The others - unfortunately, they - well, they forgot their duties to their rightful master." He bowed low, sweeping one spindly claw in front of him. "Unlike myself, of course."

Megatron snickered. "Unlike you. Of course." He moved his arm to aim down the corridor. The clone cycled a far too loud sigh of relief and turned away again, studying the hall in front of him a bit too intently.

Killing the clone's batchmates had been far too much fun. Starscream had deserved death for eons. But the Seeker had always been devious, and his clever schemes could often prove useful - as long as Megatron made sure the Seeker couldn't turn those plots against his lord and leader.

And there were - other reasons Starscream could be useful to have around. Heat crackled through Megatron's circuits as he remembered, staring at the clone's lithe form in front of him, the sway of its hips and the twitch of its wings.

But Megatron had no reason, strategic or personal, to show mercy to the army of copies Starscream had sent to kill him. Whether or not one Starscream was one too many, Megatron had no use for more of them. The clone with him now would only be alive long enough to make sure he found the real Starscream.

Slaughtering the clones had been glorious. They'd fallen one after another, wreathed in the lavender light from his cannon or rent to scrap by his massive claws. Starscream's plating had always been thin, and it dented and tore beautifully under his hands.

His spark pulsed, sending a new wave of heat through his systems. It pooled in his interface equipment and he felt his spike pressurize, thudding against its cover.

He always had loved playing with Starscream's wings. And so had Starscream, in the days before his jealousy had led him here, crying out half in desire and half in agony, cursing Megatron even as he moaned his lord's name, pleading for more...

Megatron growled at himself, shaking his head to clear it. Pleasant as the battle with the clones had been, that was about destruction alone. Not passion. His frame was still covered in their gore, spatters of blue energon glowing as they dripped down his broad chest.

Remembering it, he grinned. His vents cycled air heavily, the sound harsh with the exertion he'd expended killing the other clones. Starscream was no match for him, of course, but an entire battalion of them had taken some work to destroy. They were clever, after all. And graceful. And fast.

But now only two Starscreams remained: this irritating, groveling impostor - and the real prize, hidden somewhere in the wreckage of the downed Decepticon warship.

My dearest Starscream, he thought, smirking. Do you know what I did to your little army? Do you realize I'm coming for you now?

The clone stopped in front of a wide door, giving Megatron another sweeping bow.

"This is it, master. The door to the lab. There's really nowhere else for him to go - nothing else of interest anywhere in the ship."

"No doubt because he stole it all and kept it for himself," Megatron rumbled. The clone gave an ingratiating laugh and shrugged, its optics wide and fixed on Megatron.

"Well?" Megatron prompted, his optics narrowing in suspicion and impatience. "The original Starscream sent you on a mission. It's you who ought to report back to him, don't you think?

"Besides," Megatron snarled, raising his arm again, "you're the one who can open that door."

With a nervous wing-twitch, a sycophantic nod, and a hiss of irritation, the clone did as he was bid, his thin fingers dancing over the console. With a booming thud and a scratch of rusted gears, the doors parted.

"Lord Starscream," the clone began. "I regret to inform you that our mission to terminate Megatron has fa - aiiiiigh!"

The rest of the clone's speech became a shriek of agony. A missile struck the clone square in the wing, blasting the tip off entirely. It fell to the floor and the clone fell with it, in a crumpled heap just in front of Megatron, oozing energon from the jagged, blackened wound.

Megatron stepped forward, cannon at the ready.

The first thing he heard was another scream of pain, an eerie echo of the first, close by the door as it opened.

"Scrap it - my wing!" came a familiar voice, laced with static.

The warlord looked down, hastily pointing his cannon at the floor. Perhaps the clone had recovered more quickly than he thought it would.

Then he saw it, crumpled in front of him, just beyond the open door: the frame of the real Starscream, twisted as if in pain.

Megatron looked down at Starscream's wings. Unlike the clone's, both of Starscream's wings were whole. He curled around himself protectively anyway, his twisted pose almost an exact mirror image of the clone in front of him.

"You are not injured, Starscream," Megatron sneered, waving his free hand. "I suggest you get up. Otherwise, coming after you offers neither of us any sport whatsoever."

"Lord Megatron?" the Seeker shrieked, his optics wide as he scrambled to his feet. He snarled again in pain and twitched one wing, the other frozen as though Starscream couldn't move it.

"I thought he would come back here alone," Starscream snarled to no one in particular. "I thought -"

Apparently realizing he was thinking aloud - in front of Megatron, no less - the Seeker hastily cut himself off.

"Alone, Starscream?" Megatron answered, chuckling. "Oh, I don't think so."

"My - my lord," Starscream began, his static-threaded voice lulling and singsong. "I - I swear, I did my best to control those clones - to - to convince them not to make any - ahh! - trouble for you - but they - aiiigh!"

Megatron ignored Starscream's excuses. Whatever was causing the Seeker such pain had incapacitated him for the moment, and Megatron could afford to indulge his curiosity for now.

"Your wing isn't damaged," he said, his optics narrowing as he studied the two Starscreams on the ground in front of him. "Unless -"

He reached down, grabbing the clone, his claw wrapping hand around the damaged wing.

Twin yelps, in unison, answered him.

"Interesting," he murmured, pulling the clone to its knees in front of him. He traced a clawtip along the edge of the undamaged wing, his touch exaggeratedly gentle. Long experience with Starscream had taught him exactly where the flight sensors were - and just how intensely they responded to touch.

The wing under his hand trembled - and the real Starscream shuddered just as hard, as though Megatron's fingers had moved on his own wing as well.

He favored the true Starscream with a grin. "It seems you feel everything he does."

Starscream hissed a curse. The clone echoed it, but another stroke of the wing coaxed him to stillness again.

"Oh, come now, both of you," Megatron answered, still petting the clone's wings. "I can do this, and both of you can enjoy yourselves. Or I can destroy you for your treachery -" his claw clenched tight around the clone's wing, making it yelp again and Starscream hiss "- watch you suffer as he dies -" his optics fixed on Starscream - "and then kill you when it's over."

He laughed, his optics bright as he relaxed his hold on the clone's wing. "I would think the choice is obvious."

"Of course, Lord Megatron," twin voices shrilled in almost-perfect unison.

"I live only to serve your will, Master," the clone added, his mouthplates curling into a wide grin of relief. "And yet, mere moments after I came online, my progenitor here tried to trick me and my batchmates into abandoning our true purpose and turning aga -"

"This was their idea!" Starscream protested, raising his arm and aiming his one remaining missile at the clone. "There were so many of them, I couldn't -"

"Enough!" Megatron roared.

The Starscreams fell silent. The original let out a trill of nervous laughter as he stared at Megatron with wide optics.

Megatron leaned down to lift the clone in his arms, his optics still fixed on Starscream, wary lest the Seeker recover enough to attack. But Starscream only watched, mesmerized, his optic ridges creasing sharply.

Jealous, Starscream? Megatron thought, chuckling. But I've only just begun.

The clone squawked in surprise as Megatron picked him up. Then his cry became a yelp of renewed pain as Megatron deposited him roughly against a wall near the door. Starscream echoed it, hissing and shaking his head.

The clone's injured wing glowed blue with energon, slicking the wall behind it. He leaned heavily against the wall but remained upright, gazing at Megatron with flickering optics.

Megatron stared back, drinking in the sight of the torn wing and the glowing energon pouring from it. He licked his lip plates, thinking of the taste of Starscream's fuel, wondering if the clone's energon would taste the same.

But as tempted as he was to lean over and press his mouthplates to the wound, losing himself in something he'd missed far more than he'd let himself admit, it would mean leaving himself all too vulnerable to the real threat - which wouldn't stay writhing on the ground forever.

And he had promised them pleasure. The pain they both deserved would come soon enough.

With the clone against the wall, Megatron had access to anything he might want - and assurance that he couldn't get away. And with just a slight turn of his head, Megatron had a perfect view of the original Starscream still crumpled in the doorway.

More importantly, the setup offered him a clear shot at Starscream as well, should the link between his own sensor net and the clone's prove weak enough to let him try anything. To underscore the point, Megatron extended his arm, giving the still-prostrate Starscream a good look at the lavender energy glowing in the barrel of his fully-charged cannon.

Megatron's other claw slid over the clone's uninjured wing again. While the clone didn't have free rein to move it, pressed as it was against the wall, Megatron felt the wing tremble against his hand.

"Good," he murmured, coaxing, trailing his clawtips over the thin plating and beginning to dig in, just deep enough to scratch the surface of the plating. The clone's optics narrowed in suspicion, but the slight burn of Megatron's claws scoring their way down his wing was nothing compared to the gaping wound he bore on the other side.

Besides, Starscream had always liked rough handling, the twists and tears of minor damage pricking his sensornet into sharp, bright awareness. Even as he watched, the clone's optics widened, his snarl of discomfort becoming a faint, staticky gasp.

But it was not the clone that Megatron had come here for. He turned to see that the real Starscream had lifted his head and was staring back at him, optics bright with avarice and jealousy.

Excellent. Still gazing intently at Starscream, he slid his hand free from the clone's wing. Two voices hissed their disappointment at the loss. Snickering softly, Megatron slid his claws over the clone's shoulders and down his chest, their tips clicking against the metal as they moved.

The clone's chestplate was warm under Megatron's hand, the spark tucked away beneath it seething with energy. Megatron could hear the clone's cooling fans kick on with a high whirr - and probably his progenitor's, as well.

His spike, fully pressurized now, thudded heavily against its housing at the obvious evidence of the two Seekers' desire. He pressed his hand to the center of the clone's chest, his palm covering the Decepticon brand marked there.

"Yours, my liege," the clone crooned, his wide-opticked and frightened expression replaced with a sultry smirk.

Below them, the original Starscream stirred to life, his engines sputtering. His frame writhed on the ground, twisting into a sultry pose. The Seeker's claws moved to his own chest, echoing Megatron's movements. He writhed - but not with pain. Not any more.

Megatron stared, his own faceplates twisting into an eager, predatory grin. So this is affecting you.

The clone snarled and tilted his head, sneering in Starscream's general direction. "Master -" he panted, pressing his chest plates all the harder against Megatron's hand.

Megatron chuckled, his hand sliding off of the clone's chest, his palm and fingertips still warm with the spark's heat. He curled his claws outward again and traced them down the clone's abdomen and then over one hip.

The clone's hips tilted in response to the touch. He laughed, a smug chuckle, his faceplates twisting into a triumphant smirk.

But Megatron hadn't come here for the clone. He shifted his gaze to the original Starscream, who arched his hips even harder than the clone had, frustrated by the phantom sensations he could feel but not control.

"Master -" he echoed, his voice shot through with static. His clone had purred the word to be seductive. Starscream was pleading. Megatron could catch glimpses of slivery lubricant leaking from his still-covered valve as he writhed. "I - I'm the one - you came here for -"

Megatron smirked. "Perhaps," he offered, turning back to the clone.

He slid his claw over one of the clone's hips, then down to the clone's interface array. Heat surged in his systems as he traced his claw along the seam of the cover hiding the clone's spike. He growled at himself, fighting to keep his movements slow and deliberate - and to keep his own spike cover from opening just yet.

That would happen soon enough.

As for the clone, his cover slid aside almost shyly, the long, thin spike springing free a moment later. It was already pressurized, fluid glistening at its tip.

Megatron glanced at it approvingly and slid his hand downward, toward the cover of the clone's valve. Lubricant seeped from the seam, wetting Megatron's fingertips.

Megatron's frame rumbled in a deep purr. He'd forgotten how much he liked the proof of Starscream's desire staining his fingers.

The clone's optics gleamed as it caught sight of Megatron's thick spike. Needing no further encouragement, he retracted his valve cover. Megatron's clawtips slid to the valve's rim, tracing it greedily as a fresh gush of lubricant smeared them.

Below them, Starscream moaned, his hips twitching from the sensation of Megatron touching him so intimately without touching him at all. His own valve cover began to shift aside.

"No," Megatron snapped immediately, his optics flaring and his cannon glowing with bright heat. "You keep them both closed."

The clone laughed, a fey trill of exultation. Starscream cursed, apparently angry enough to spit invective at Megatron regardless of consequences.

"Silence, you fool," Megatron growled. "You'll feel all of it anyway."

Starscream keened in frustration. Megatron's spark wheeled in cruel amusement. He slid one claw from the rim of Starscream's valve to the opening, eager to sink into the warm heat at its center.

His optics widened in surprise as he felt resistance - the unmistakable impediment of an intact seal.

The clone's engines sputtered. His optic ridges tilted downward and he frowned, his faceplates the picture of shocked dismay.

"Master -" he stammered. "Despite the newness of this frame, I possess all of the memories of my progenitor. And - and therefore all of his - skills as well."

"Bah!" Starscream snarled. "He's lucky if your spike even fits inside him!"

Megatron snickered, his own cover retracting to let his spike spring free. It strained upward, painfully pressurized, fluid leaking from its tip. Megatron peered down at it a moment, looking from its broad girth to the dainty little valve under his claws.

Starscream definitely had a point. Aerial fighters like him were built small and light, designed for speed and agility. Megatron had been built a miner, his broad, heavy frame suited to hard labor. Compared to Starscream and his clone, Megatron was massive. And his spike, designed in proportion to the rest of him, was similarly large for Starscream's tight valve.

Long vorns of practice with thick spikes - Megatron's and others' - had eased the way, forcing the small opening wider than it was meant to go and training the inside walls to shift to hold their invaders.

But the clone's protoform had taken Starscream's shape only days ago, and the seal against Megatron's fingertips showed that the valve had never even been touched. Megatron would have to batter his way in if he wanted any hope of fitting into the opening, narrowed to its factory defaults.

The clone's broad mouth twisted into a nervous grin as he stared at Megatron's thick spike. No doubt he too had understood his progenitor's point.

But even as Megatron watched, the clone's awkward smile shifted into a sly smirk. "Lord Megatron - consider for a moment that I have something to offer you that he does not."

Megatron's spark pulsed hot at that thought, his spike twitching as he imagined the clone's valve denting as he slammed into it, the force of his thrusts tearing it open to admit him.

Cruel, perhaps, but he wasn't doing any of this for the benefit of the clone. He growled, his optics narrowing as one corner of his mouth turned up in a sneering grin.

"Lord Megatron," Starscream purred from his place on the floor, the title an eerie echo of the clone's words just before. He arched his body, tilting his hips up again to present his still-closed valve to Megatron above him. Closed or not, the seams glistened with quicksilver lubricant, dripping onto Starscream's thighs.

"What is it, Starscream?" Megatron rasped, transfixed by the sight.

"If that little impostor cannot properly serve your needs," Starscream answered, sliding his own claws down his body, their movement making little clicking sounds as they moved, "perhaps you should consider someone you know is capable of it."

Once again, Megatron had to admit that Starscream had a point. As enticing as he found the thought of cleaving the virgin clone with his spike, his intention here was control, not torment. He would have to be careful if he really wanted Starscream to feel both bliss and pain.

His frame rumbled as he traced the tip of his sharp claw over the clone's most sensitive plating. As much of a disappointment as not being able to break the seal with his spike would prove, there was something to be said for doing it with blade-sharp claws...

"I know full well what I intend, Starscream," he growled back, still running his clawtip over the rim and the thin seal of the clone's valve. The clone shuddered, pressing against Megatron's hand and turning his head to laugh mockingly at Starscream.

That was quite enough from the clone as well.

"Look at me," Megatron snarled. "Not at him."

The clone's head snapped back, its optics wide with a mix of eagerness and fear.

"That's better," Megatron purred, still petting the outside of the clone's valve. The clone cooed, his optics narrowing in response to Megatron's soothing rhythm.

Megatron grinned, locking optics with the clone as he positioned the tips of two claws at the opening.

The clone cycled a heavy pant, but in the end it was Starscream who murmured "Yes."

Megatron's optics flicked to the figure sprawled on the floor below him as, with a growl, he drove his fingers in.

Megatron felt a burst of warm, wet heat as the seal broke, smearing his clawtips with spilled energon. Megatron's spark wheeled, fierce and possessive, and as it pulsed he felt his spike twitch with phantom pleasure, intense enough that static crackled before his optics.

But just as delicious as the heat of the clone's valve and the wanton eagerness of its movements was the sight of Starscream, his hips tilting just as the clone's had, his head thrown back and his mouth open impossibly wide as he keened, a cry of disbelief at the intensity of the invasion and of desperate welcome all at once.

The clone cried out as well, shuddering against Megatron's hand. Megatron felt the clone's hips jerk as he gasped again, trying to drive himself onto his invaders all the harder.

Slick as it was with energon and lubricant, the valve was impossibly tight, locked so hard over Megatron's fingers that he could barely move them. With a growl, he withdrew them, feeling the rim of Starscream's valve dent as he tore them free almost all the way, then plunged them in again.

He did not even spare a look for the clone. He had optics only for Starscream, who writhed on the floor, hissing a curse that became a loud moan as Megatron moved. A new trickle of lubricant oozed out from beneath his still-closed panel.

As always, Starscream savored the pain.

As did the impostor Megatron's fingers moved inside. Lubricant gushed from his torn valve, welling up around Megatron's hand and smearing it with the clone's combined fluids. The walls of the valve shifted, opening to admit him, and Megatron's fingers sank inside unimpeded now.

Smirking, he slid in another claw, watching Starscream's mouth twist into a snarl at the stinging stretch as Megatron's broad fingers stretched the clone open even wider.

I have something to offer you that he does not, the impostor had said. And yet, what was the sight below him now but Starscream made new again?

What was this but Megatron forcing him to offer up what someone else had taken?

"Y - yours," he panted, as if in answer to Megatron's thoughts, the clone's static-laced voice a meaningless echo of the confession.

There is nothing you have that I cannot claim, Megatron thought, his spike pressurizing even further as he drove his fingers in deep, heedless of the damage it might do. He felt the walls of the clone's valve dent around him, only half-managing to shift around them as he forced them apart.

"Megatron -" the clone panted, optics wide with a mix of fear and desire. "Please -"

"Please," Starscream echoed, his voice crackling with static. His mouthplates twisted into a smug smile as his optics locked with Megatron's.

So you finally realize this isn't about him, do you? Megatron chuckled, sliding his fingers free.

"Master!" the clone shrieked. "Please - I -"

He looked over at Starscream, his optics widening in shock as he realized Megatron wasn't looking back at him.

"That is -" the clone tried again "- we - we're so close -"

"Indeed," Megatron murmured, static flickering in his vision again at the brazen confession - both of the clone's need, and of its desperation.

Megatron lifted his claws to his mouth, licking at the mixture of energon and lubricant. He shuddered at the taste, his frame wracked with a violent pleasure. How long had it been since he'd tasted Starscream, whether his fluids or his wounds?

And the clone tasted new, his energon sharp with the tang of the freshly made, a bright shocking blaze of youth.

"Master -" the clone whined, licking at its own lip plates as it watched Megatron licking his claws clean. "Is that - is that all - all you wanted?"

"No," Starscream answered for him, snickering.

"Then - what now - my lord -?"

"Now," Starscream purred, staring up at Megatron's still-pressurized spike with greedy eagerness, "Megatron leaves you aside for someone who can properly accommodate him."

He shifted onto his hands and knees with impossibly fluid grace, his aft facing Megatron and his valve cover sliding aside before the warlord had a chance to forbid it.

The valve he presented was small, just as the clone's was, but its rim bore the marks of long centuries of use, old dents and scars half-healed over. It gaped open as he moved, the entrance irising open with the long-practiced smoothness of experience.

"No -" gasped the clone.

"No," Megatron echoed.

"No - ?" Starscream shrieked, indignant. "Megatron, what - ?"

For the first time since he'd pierced the clone's seal, Megatron turned to look at it. He smiled, his mouth a ring of blades. "Down," he said.

"But -" Starscream protested. "He can't -"

The clone, for his part, didn't need to be told twice. He fell to his hands and knees with the same fluidity of motion his progenitor had, exposing his own valve, its outside torn by Megatron's fingers, the ragged remnants of its broken seal still visible.

"No!" Starscream wailed. The clone snickered.

"Did you think I did all that for nothing, Starscream?" Megatron taunted, taking his spike in hand and lining himself up with the clone's already-blasted valve. "Do you really mean to tell me you didn't realize I was preparing him for this?"

"Yes," the clone sighed, smirking at his progenitor.

Starscream's engines sputtered. "Lord Megatron - Master - that - that's not fair -!"

"Quiet yourself," Megatron shot back, pressing the tip of his spike to the clone's torn entrance, his spark wheeling with heat at the feeling of the fluids smeared there. "I told you - you will feel everything."

Starscream shrieked in protest again. Megatron growled, his spark crackling with eagerness at the sound.

His every instinct - as a warlord, as a tyrant, as a champion in the pits - screamed at him to simply slam his way inside, battering his way into the still-narrow opening and taking what he wanted without pity or apology.

After all, the clone meant nothing to him. Only Starscream mattered, and none of this would damage him.

And Starscream had long ago accustomed himself to pain.

He gritted his fangs, cycling air raggedly as he forced himself to be calm. The clone's torment would be satisfying, yes. So would watching Starscream writhe with it. But agony was only half of the lesson he meant to impart - and he intended to ensure that Starscream understood it all.

For that, Starscream had to know pleasure from his frame as well as pain.

He wrapped his claws around the clone's slender hips, pushing the tip of his spike in as slowly as he could stand.

The fit was impossibly tight, tighter even than he remembered, despite the energon and lubricant pooled around the rim.

The constriction of the clone's valve set the sensors in Megatron's spike flaring to expectant life, but its choking grip around him was almost painful. He moved his hips, trying to push deeper.

The clone threw back his head and screeched, trying to twist away, his cry an eerie echo of Starscream's snarl of frustration. Megatron locked his claws around the clone's waist, freezing him in place.

The clone shuddered, his claws scratching against the floor beneath them in frustration and pain. He thrashed wildly for a moment, Starscream hissing his agony for him. Then he stilled, his head twisted to stare at Megatron, his optics wide.

"My lord - I - I can't -" he stammered, earning a glare and a muttered curse from his progenitor, whose valve glistened with the lubricant leaking from it.

But Megatron knew the clone's body better than the clone knew it himself. The clone might have had Starscream's memories, but he didn't have centuries of spark-deep knowledge of his own frame.

Megatron knew Starscream's frame as well as his own.

His hands swept down to slap at the clone's thighs. The clone yelped in pain but shifted, spreading its legs wider. In front of them, Starscream did the same, his slender thighs trembling as he forced them apart, his mouthplates set against the stinging pain of forcing them past comfort - and of Megatron's spike stretching him open without being inside him at all.

The clone, for his part, was less agile than his progenitor proved to be, but the move worked. The viselike grip around Megatron's spike eased, the Seeker's valve sliding open to better admit him, the fluids leaking from its entrance easing his way.

Gripping tight enough at the clone's aft to nick the plating under his claws, Megatron growled and slid in deeper, the slow slide of his gradual entry sending bright bursts of heat flaring through his systems as he moved.

"Megatron -" Starscream panted, as affected by the teasing movement as Megatron himself was. The clone hissed, the sound becoming a moan as Megatron's spike moved against the sensors lining the walls of his valve.

He, too, cried out Megatron's name, his voice a thin, desperate whimper. His valve shifted again, irising open all the wider, and the last of Megatron's spike sank into warm heat.

"Master - please -" the clone sighed.

Starscream chuckled, his static-laced voice a dark purr. "More."

Megatron snickered. There was no way Starscream could miss what that would do to him and to his clone alike.

Which meant, of course, that it was time.

He pulled back, his frame rumbling as the heat built up in his systems, charge crackling over his spike. Then he roared and drove in hard, his spike tearing into the tiny body, heedless of the damage it might do.

The clone wailed, Megatron's assault cleaving his valve, the thin plating lining the walls buckling as Megatron's spike battered it. Starscream took up the cry, throwing back his head and screeching, shuddering as Megatron's thrusts clove him without touching him at all. Lubricant dripped anew from his valve - and from the clone's, pooling from his torn entrance as Megatron filled him again and again.

Static flickered across Megatron's vision and he growled again, his spark whirling with the searing heat. His claws dug deep into the clone's hips again, making him twitch.

But the clone wasn't pulling away any more. Apparently taking his cue from Starscream, he drove himself back onto Megatron's spike with a high, mewling cry.

So you do understand my intentions, Megatron thought, laughing out loud as he drew back to ram his spike in again, the tight heat of Starscream's valve sending gossamer lightning crackling over its surface. His fangs drew back in a grimace as he fought not to let go.

He could not break first. Not now. Not for this.

He drove in fast and hard, slamming into the clone over and over, white lights flickering before his optics.

It was Starscream who answered first, his vocalizer spitting a sharp burst of static. Then the clone keened, his battered valve clenching tight over Megatron's spike at last.

Megatron's hips jerked one last time as overload crashed over him, his transfluid bursting free to fill the already overstuffed valve holding him. His spark pulsed, its energy flaring out from him, the overload a searing nova of heat and light.

He fixed his optics on Starscream, the Seeker's quivering frame and wide-open mouth the last thing he saw before the white light claimed him.


When his systems reset, Starscream lay curled on the ground in front of him, his spindly claws tracing over his own lubricant-smeared thighs. Megatron stared avidly as he disentangled himself from the clone, watching Starscream's fingertips slide to the lip of his valve and run idly along its surface.

Enticing sight as it was, Megatron doubted Starscream had intended it as an obscene display. The Seeker's optics flickered, unfocused, and he murmured contentedly to himself.

The clone, for his part, mewled softly as Megatron pulled away. Then, remembering his place, he turned to Megatron, his mouthplates twisting into a smug grin.

"Master," he purred. "I cannot even begin to express how grateful I am that you chose to use me to -"

His optics widened as he caught sight of the cannon atop Megatron's arm, crackling with energy and pointed directly at him.

"No! Wait! - I served you - faithfully, my liege - when all the others only -"

The clone's protest became a shriek of agony as a bolt of lavender energy burst from Megatron's cannon, wreathing his slender form in heat and light.

Below them, Starscream echoed the cry, his mouthplates stretched wide as he howled. The rest of his frame froze, locked tight in an obscene mimicry of death.

The clone's frame fell to the ground, blackened and lifeless, the optics glowing for a moment with unnatural light and then dimming to ruby-dark emptiness. Purple lightning crackled over it for a brief moment and then died.

Starscream's engines sputtered and he gave a weak, staticky cough as he slid to his hands and knees, his wings twitching. "You - you - killed him."

"I claimed you," Megatron retorted. The original Starscream had lost his seal long before ever meeting Megatron - but now, thanks to the clone, even that belonged to him.

Starscream's gaze flicked to his pelvis, the still open valve glistening with lubricant. "Yes," he murmured.

"You've always been mine, Starscream. You always will be."

Starscream's optics widened. He opened his mouth, but whether to argue or agree, Megatron never knew. He fell silent abruptly, glowering balefully down at the clone's body. "And - him?"

The warlord smirked, his gaze following Starscream's. "He was dead the moment he set foot on my ship, Starscream."

Starscream grimaced, looking up at Megatron's chest plate, still spattered with the dried energon of the other dead clones.

"Mm - well, my lord -" he murmured, clearing his vocalizer, "I - I can certainly understand getting that fool out of the way once you finished with him, but -"

"But what, Starscream?" Megatron purred, his voice deceptively mild.

Starscream snorted. "But did you have to ruin the moment? That hurt!"

"You deserted, Starscream. Did you really think that I would let that go without the punishment it warrants?"

"Punishment?" Starscream shrilled. "I felt every one of the other clones die already, Megatron!"

He stopped, his optics widening as he realized what he'd said. Megatron smiled, his grin a ring of sharpened blades.

"Er - that is to say -" Starscream tried again, lowering his head and sweeping a spindly arm in front of his chest in a gesture of deference, "shouldn't feeling each of the clones' deaths be - punishment enough?"

"Be glad I let you live, fool," Megatron growled back. "And gave you pleasure into the bargain."

Starscream scrabbled to his feet, clicking his wings and wincing in phantom pain as they moved.

"It's me you want, isn't it?" he whispered. "This was about me."

Megatron nodded. "Of course it was."

"Then - you aren't here to kill me too. Not after you spent so much time and effort - doing that." Starscream's hips tilted at the memory, silvery lubricant spattering his thighs, pelvic plating, and still-open valve.

Megatron smiled, his optics flaring. "No, Starscream. I am not here to kill you."

"Then - if I come with you -"

Megatron chuckled, grabbing at one of Starscream's wings and wrenching hard. "When you come with me. There is no 'if.'"

Starscream shrieked, tossing his head in agony and indignation.

"Settle down," Megatron ordered, keeping a tight grip on Starscream's wing.

The Seeker snarled wordlessly, but stilled quickly enough, casting a last glance at the clone. Then he raised his head. His optics narrowed, bright slits of ruby flame.

Megatron smiled. Always considering your options.

Even when the only ones you have are those I offer you.

Starscream's mouthplates twisted into a sly, ingratiating smile. "Of course, my lord. I am ever - grateful to you for your - forgiveness."

This isn't forgiveness, Megatron thought. He loosened his grip on Starscream's wing and slid his clawtips over its edge. Starscream shuddered, leaning into his touch.

"And for your favor," Starscream purred, as though in answer to his thoughts.

Megatron smirked back at Starscream, pulling his hand away. "Favor? What I grant - or withhold - depends entirely on you."

But then, that was the lesson I came here to teach you. If you have the sense to comprehend it.

"I understand, Master," Starscream replied, his voice silken.

"We'll see about that," Megatron shot back, chuckling as he turned away.